


I put a spell on you (because you're mine)

by nastally



Series: Dawn of Aquarius Multiverse [4]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Halloween, Heartbreak, Hurt No Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Missing Scene, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Prompt Fic, dawn of aquarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally
Summary: Dawn of Aquariusmissing scene, following on from chapter 73.Two Hallowe'en parties in 1969.
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: Dawn of Aquarius Multiverse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030740
Comments: 19
Kudos: 21





	I put a spell on you (because you're mine)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trixie_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixie_b/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dawn of Aquarius](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372263) by [nastally](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally). 



> Friends, if you aren't caught up on or haven't read [Dawn of Aquarius](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372263/chapters/43503140), don't bother with this. It won't make any sense.
> 
> Haha, so. I sat down at 10pm on Halloween and decided, on a whim, to write a short DoA Halloween '69 missing scene before going to bed.  
> So I asked QuirkySubject and freddieofhearts - who both happened to be awake - to give me a phrase, an object and a mood, telling them nothing, and ended up with this:  
>  _Living on the edge, saw, depressed  
>  No rest for the wicked, crystal ball, melancholic_
> 
> Clearly, they didn't want me to write anything happy. So complain to them about how depressing this is. 😜
> 
> Gifting this to Trixie B, whose story [Behind Closed Doors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099979) you MUST READ before you read this! Because it's hilarious, and she gave a tiny side-character I created life, and I love her for that. Thanks, Trixie, you're the best! 💕
> 
> Songs abused in this fic:  
> Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett  
> I Put a Spell on You by Creedence Clearwater Revival
> 
> Happy Halloween! 🎃

\- - -

“I've a bone to pick with ye!” She had swept in, the strategically torn, blood-stained bridal veil covering half her face, eyes full of mirth behind all that make up. The latter put him at ease and Freddie smiled hesitantly, because despite her words - it meant he’d done something wrong, did it not? - she didn’t seem all _that_ upset. A joke, then. It had to be.

“Dearie me!” he replied, his tone cheerful. It was an effort, and the fact that it was an effort frustrated him. He’d not been able to get into the mood for a party all night. “What crime have I committed?” 

Celine laughed loudly and Freddie found himself unbalanced the next moment, almost spilling some of his beer when she latched on to him, veritably hanging off of his arm. 

“Whoops,” she giggled as they both steadied themselves, holding on to each other. “I think I’m a wee bit tipsy.”

“Are you indeed?” Freddie grinned, one eyebrow raised, pulling his lip over his teeth. Everyone loved to drink here, up North. Even more so than in London, it seemed. Even the girls. 

Celine, in her flowing white dress, artfully smeared with streaks of red paint, propped a hand up on her hip. “Excuse me, how come yer no’ drunk?”

Freddie took a sip of his beer, which he had been sipping for the last three quarters of an hour. It still hadn’t improved in taste. “I’ll have you know this is my third beer,” he informed her, and that was a lie. It was his second.

She threw her head back and laughed at that, too. “Livin’ on the edge!” And then she remembered. “Oh, but I was gonna say- You!” She poked him in the chest and he could see her eyes narrow through the red-white netting of the veil. _Dead bride_ , she’d told him, and they had proceeded to spin a long harrowing tale about the gruesome fate which must have befallen her. It was a good costume, Freddie though. Much better than his own half-hearted attempt at a pirate. But then, he hadn’t wanted to ruin any of his clothes for it. 

When Celine opened her mouth to tell him just what she was accusing him of, Freddie leaned in closer, trying to hear her over the raised voices in the pub and the music playing in the background. 

_They played the mash, they played the monster mash  
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash..._

“You’re stealing my boyfriend!" Celine huffed.

Paper skeletons decorated the walls and spiders with long, hairy pipe cleaner legs sat in cotton-cobwebs in the corners of the pub. Earlier, his bandmates had ambushed him outside the toilets, Tupp wielding a saw and Miffer with his silly rubber mask, making him scream to everyone’s amusement. (Another embarrassing ordeal to add to the long list of things he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about when he lay awake at night, sleepless again even though he was utterly exhausted.) Yet, _this_ was the first true fright Freddie had received tonight.

“I...” He stared back at Celine, afraid to react. Afraid to so much as blink while he tried to make sense of what she had just accused him of, a surge of panic forcing the air from his lungs. For a few seconds, his mind ran utterly wild with terror at the meaning of this. He had never, of course not, not _Mike_ \- Did she know that he- How could she know? Did Mike think- Oh no, oh God, did _Mike_ know? Of course - another voice whispered - of course Mike knew, they all probably knew, because it was obvious, he was _obvious_ , so hopeless at pretending- oh no. God, if they- _Was_ she joking? Another prank? Had they set her up to get him to _confess_? 

"I'm not," Freddie uttered defensively.

Celine’s shriek of laughter made him jump, interrupting his spiralling, panicked thoughts. “Yes, ye bloody well are!”

“What,” he breathed numbly.

“Yer stealin’ my fella away to London!”

The penny dropped at last and Freddie huffed out a laugh, so dizzy with relief he felt a bit faint. "Right, yes. I- I didn't- yes, I'm sorry about that,” he stammered, opting for a few large gulps of beer to hide his (surely bizarre - no, _suspicious_ ) reaction. 

“Oh lordy, yer face!” Cel hugged his arm affectionately, still giggling, and leaned closer to his ear. “What did ye think I was talkin’ about?”

His chest hurt when he took a deep breath, turning back to look at her. “Not a clue,” Freddie shook his head and kept smiling. “I’ve not a clue…”

And to his own horror, he found that there was a small part of him, inside him, which ached terribly. Because that irrational part of himself had fervently wanted her to know. Wished she had found him out. 

At least then, maybe he could have _told_ her. He might have been able to tell _someone_ , at least one person, what had really happened in London. And that wasn’t fair, because there was Brian, but Brian was a man, and Freddie couldn’t- he _couldn’t_ , not like that, it was too much, too shameful to talk to him like that. And Celine was sweet and soft, in her own way, almost motherly sometimes. Perhaps he could have told her - what was in his heart. And why it hurt. And even if she’d not had a single word of advice, at least she might have told him that it was going to be alright.

Oh, but he was being ridiculous - there it was again, the other voice, the one which usually knew better - to think she would be so sweet. If she knew. He was being utterly ridiculous. To think there would be no judgement, no disgust, even if hidden behind a facade of pity to spare his feelings.

No.

As long as he kept himself to himself, he was safe. It was only that-

That he was so lonely.

\- - -

_I ain't gonna take none of your foolin' around  
I ain't gonna take none of your puttin' me down…_

Roger took another sip from his glass, gazing at the crystal ball on the coffee table as though he was in all seriousness attempting to divine the future. Which, of course, was not the case.

_I put a spell on you  
because you're mine…_

Reflected in the crystal orb were Jo and Chrissie, standing beside the door to Brian’s room in their witchy get up and gossiping away, or so it looked. He’d barely spoken to Jo all night so far, seeing as she was not inclined to tell anyone about their, well - whatever it was. Apparently, not even Chrissie had been let in on the secret yet, which Roger could barely believe, but then he supposed it made sense. Roger had a feeling Chrissie might try to talk her best friend out of seeing the bloke she’d spent the last half a year hating. And perhaps she wouldn’t be wrong. It chilled him a bit, in his heart, how little he would have cared even if Jo decided to never see him again after tonight. Or so he thought. Roger wasn’t quite sure what he felt, these days, if he was honest.

However, it wasn’t the girls he was looking at either, nor their words he was hearing, nor the music which rang in his ears.

In truth, Roger was far away. In time, if not in the sense of spacial displacement. Because in his mind, he was right here. Perched on the armrest of Brian’s sofa, just as he had been a couple of weeks ago. 

Because the last time he had been here, before the party tonight, had been the night of shattered glass and words shouted in anger. And he thought he’d stopped turning it over in his head now, for good. But here it all was again. Freddie’s eyes, flashing with anger and wounded, underneath.

_’I hate you! Don't fucking touch me!’_

It didn’t still hurt. It couldn’t still hurt. He couldn’t still be sitting here, weighing up what-ifs. What if he hadn’t said this, that or the other, what if he’d walked out sooner, what if hadn’t come at all, what if he’d never…

“Would you like another?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Roger looked up. Brian’s flatmate Trevor was standing beside him, the devil’s horns on his head a little wonky, his eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your drink,” Trevor pointed out, and scratched the back of his head. “I’m just- just making the rounds, seeing if anyone would like a top up.”

“Oh. Sure.” Roger glanced down at his glass, which was almost empty, and swirled the remainder of his whiskey and lemonade around in it before he lifted it to his lips, downing the last couple of sips. “Cheers, mate.” He handed the glass to Trevor. “Great party.” It was, probably. Had he been in the mood for it.

“You think so?” Trevor looked pleased with himself and Roger gave him a friendly smile. He really hadn’t thought this would be Trevor’s thing at all and had been as surprised as Brian that the English Literature student had decided to have a Halloween party and had extended the invitation to Brian’s friends. He’d always seemed like he preferred his own company, locked away in his room with his poetry. But then Roger barely knew the guy. Maybe he fancied himself the next Sir Edgar Allan Poe and the spooky flair of Hallowe’en agreed with his poetic sensibilities. Or something.

“Yeah, yeah.” Roger nodded encouragingly, looking around at the cut out bats stuck to the bay window and the numerous candles around the room. “Place looks great, too.” His eyes fell on the crystal ball again. “I like this, where’d you get it?”

“Oh, you do?” Trevor smiled a little, also looking at the glass orb. “I… Kensington Market, actually.”

“Yeah? Should’ve stopped by the stall and said hi.” Roger told him, just making conversation.

Trevor’s smile widened a little. “I will. Next... next time, I mean.”

“Not very scary though, is it?” Roger crossed his arms, contemplating the crystal ball.

“Isn’t it?” Trevor gave a little chuckle. “I thought- I don’t know. Witches?”

Roger cast him a sideways glance. “Fortune tellers aren’t really witches though.”

“I guess… not.” 

Trevor looked genuinely worried about his oversight, so Roger reached out a hand and patted him on the arm with a lop-sided smile. “Don’t worry about it, pretty sure there’s bound to be someone who’s afraid of fortune tellers!” he snorted, then thought about it for a moment. “Or the future, actually…”

“What do you see in your future?” Trevor asked after a moment of silence, and if Roger had paid close attention, he may have heard the slightly breathless note in the other man’s voice. Except he wasn’t really paying attention at all. He was thinking about a future without Freddie in it, which was as strange to imagine as a future with Jo. However, he had heard the question, and so he put the smile back on his face as he turned to Trevor.

“A stiff drink,” Roger said with a wink.

“Haha!” Trevor laughed, and looked down at the glass in his hands. “Yes… yes, sorry, I’ll- I’ll get right on that.”

“Don't worry, I’m just kidding, I can make my own really,” Roger offered.

“No, no.” Trevor waved him off. “It’s my job, my patry, you know.” He pointed to his devil horns. “No rest for the wicked!”

“Right.” Roger nodded and gave Trevor another friendly pat on the arm before he turned away. “Appreciate it.”

It was his own reflection in the crystal ball which caught his eye this time. He ran a hand over his slicked back hair and turned his head side to side, admiring his handiwork with the make up. Then he adjusted the oversized bow tie. Right, time to find Brian and get a picture taken, at least. He hadn’t put in all that effort turning himself into a passable scary clown for nothing.

\- - -

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all have a better Halloween than they're having!


End file.
